CHOOSING CHRISTMAS TOYS.
(A Sketch in the Lowther Arcade.)
Between the sloping banks of toys, and under a dense foliage of coloured rosettes, calico banners, and Japanese-lanterns, the congested Stream of Custom oozes slowly along, with an occasional overflow into the backwaters of the shops behind, while the Stall-keepers keep up a batrachian and almost automatic croak of invitation.
Fond Grandmother. So you've chosen a box of soldiers, have you, Franky?—very well. Now what shall we get for little Elsie and Baby?
Franky (promptly). Another box of soldiers would do nicely for Elsie, Grandmamma, and—I know, a fort for Baby!
Grandm. (doubtfully). But they're such little tots—they won't know how to play with them.
Franky. Oh, but I can teach them, you know, Grandmamma.
Grandm. That's right—I like to see a boy kind to his little sisters.